


Dreams

by WillaYork



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Tom and Ginny had something going on, general ambiguousness, kinda-sorta maybe non-con (ish), read it how you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillaYork/pseuds/WillaYork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running from nightmares (that might not be entirely dreams) Ginny Weasley finds (platonic) comfort in the arms of possibly the last person she would've expected. And there's chocolate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

 

Dreams

 

_…Ginerva…_

 

Ginny jerked upright in her bed, the ghostly voice embodied in her dreams still whispering through her mind.  She yanked back the curtains of her four-poster on the side furthest away from her year-mates beds; gasping in deep breaths of cool night air.  She was careful to be as quiet as possible: no reason to wake one of them and give them something more to talk about.  She eased her way out of bed; she wouldn’t be able to sleep for hours and trying would only result in her tossing and turning followed by, _if_ she managed to get back to sleep, more dreams.  Better to be up, to try and ignore, if not forget.  Ginny wrapped her warm, quilted bathrobe around her and picked her way across the Fifth-Year Girls Dorm, down the stairway and the four younger years doors, and into the common room. 

 

She never really wanted to stay in bed after one of _those_ dreams anyway.

 

***

 

For once Ginny was in luck and the common room was empty at –she glanced at the steadily ticking clock atop the mantle- 2:41am.  It wasn’t uncommon for her to find Harry staring into a rekindled fire; driven from sleep by his own nightmares.  She didn’t really know how often that happened for Harry, as neither of their nighttime rambles seemed to occur _quite_ nightly.  But still, the nights when Harry did beat her down here were nights she spent tossing and turning in her bed.  She refused to let him feel guilty.  And he would, no matter what she might say to try and convince him otherwise, he would always find some way to blame himself for their existence. 

 

Besides, she didn’t think they had quite the _same_ nightmares.

 

***

 

But tonight Ginny was restless.  Somehow the common room still seemed too close to her dreams; ghostly echoes of memory seeming to lurk in each chair, in the shadows behind the couches, even in the occasional stray quill still strewn across the study-tables. 

 

Suddenly unable to stand it anymore, Ginny leapt to her feet and stumbled her way out of the portrait hole.  Had she given it any thought at the time (which she didn’t, her mind focused too intently on more important things to acknowledge such mundane details) she might have spared a moment to be grateful that student activity during the day meant that paintings had the nights to themselves and used them to their fullest advantage.  The Fat Lady was off visiting.

 

She wandered in a daze through hallways that, during the day, were as familiar now as the Burrow after five years. But now, shrouded in shadow, with all the painting-figures mixed up or gone all together, and with her dreams still resonating through her mind they formed like a twisting, never-ending maze. 

 

She started to run, breath coming in deep gasps –almost sobs- as she tried to get _out_.  But every time she thought she might see a light at the end, a way out, the walls would twist and threw her back to the twisted heart…

 

It would never let her go.  She was sobbing now, really and truly, but still she stumbled on, trying to escape even as the walls came closer and closer, as she bounced off walls seeming to appear out of nowhere and stumbled down stairs that lead she-didn’t-know-where. 

 

She felt like she’d been running forever, for years and that she always would be; it would never let her go, this would be her life forever…running and running, always trying to escape.  But it –He- would always be there, lurking in her mind, chasing her in her own memories. 

 

***

 

She had no idea where she was when the calling started again, just that it was dark.  And cold.

 

_Ginerva......Ginneeerrvaaa…._

 

She stumbled on, windows blurred through her tears, legs burning with the effort to keep going –not running now, just forward movement.  She almost fell down the stairs that materialized beneath her feet.

 

_…Stop…doing?...._

 

She couldn’t make out all of what he called from behind her.  That was fine; she didn’t want to listen.  It was all a lie anyway.  The concern in his voice was a lie, it always had been.  Otherwise how could he have almost…

 

_Ginny!_

 

It was the final call that did it.  He almost never called her that; he’d wanted to call her something no one else did, something special.  She could count the number of times she’d been ‘Ginny’ to him on one hand and it was always when she was most fragile, when she’d almost realized the truth…

 

At that call the last of her strength fled and she collapsed in a sobbing huddle at the base of the nearest wall.  The memories overtaking her mind.

 

***

 

As Ginny slowly became aware of her surroundings again she found herself wrapped in strong, warm, _real_ arms while a low voice murmured in her ear.

 

“Shhh, Gin.  It’s alright, it’s alright…. I’ve got you, nothing’s here… You’ll be alright, it’s over now….”

 

The voice was familiar –not _his_ \- but still not right either.  She couldn’t place who it was comforting her like this, neither did she really care.  It felt too good to be taken care of for once, and she let herself lean back on strong the strong chest that went with the warm arms. 

 

She let herself be held, and rocked, and soothed until she completely relaxed and the last of her tears dried away.  She gave a deep sigh and tucked her head under whoever-it-was’ chin.

 

“Better now?”

 

She nodded without moving, but said nothing.

 

“Wanna tell me about it?”

 

She hesitated.

 

“It might help,” he continued.  “Must’ve been pretty bad –whatever it was- to drive a Weasley into Slytherin territory at 4 in the morning.”

 

She was so comfortable, his voice a deep rumble more felt than heard beneath her cheek.

 

“Dreams,” she finally roused herself enough to answer… until the rest of his sentence finally penetrated her drifting mind. 

_Slytherin territory_?!

 

She pulled back –thought not entirely out of the arms now draped loosely around her waist- and sat bolt upright to look at her… savior.

 

“Malfoy?!”

 

***

 

“Malfoy?!”  Really, it wasn’t a squeak, though, if ever a situation had warranted a squeak, this one probably qualified.  Still; not a squeak.

 

Out of sheer surprise, she slumped down, then back upright when she realized that placed her back in his hold.

 

“What happened...? Where are we?” She asked, looking around and not recognizing anything.

 

“I was on my way back from the kitchens and saw you running like The Grim was after you.  I was wor–I followed you down here.  We’re in the dungeons, a good ways from the dorms though.”

 

“Oh,” she answered.  “The kitchens?” she queried, still trying to figure out what was going on.  Draco Malfoy was being _nice_?

 

He nodded to the side; his arms were still around her, Ginny realized.  She didn’t mind as much as she probably should.  But sitting near on the floor, closer to the other side of the passage, was a plain white mug.  She turned back to Malfoy.

 

“Hot chocolate,” he stated.  At Ginny’s uncomprehending stare he continued.  “I couldn’t sleep.  Dobby’s hot chocolate has helped put me to sleep since I was little.”

 

Ginny shivered and Draco’s arms tightened around her.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked again.  He seemed _worried_ (?) that he’d upset her.

 

She stared, incredulous, at this side of the Slytherin Ice Prince before shrugging and answering.

 

“Dobby just reminded me of my dream,” she finally replied.

 

“Huh?”  Ginny _did not_ just thing that confused-Malfoy was cute!  “How does a house elf relate to a dream bad enough to drive you out of bed _and_ Gryffindor in the middle of the night?  Or,” he paused.  “Is it just Dobby?”

 

Ginny shrugged and ducked her head.  No matter how nice Malfoy was being right now she wasn’t going to pour her heart out to him.

 

Malfoy sighed; a deep, long-suffering sigh and Ginny prepared herself to be shoved away and for him to stalk off.  Instead –and quite to her surprise- his arms tightened and pulled her back into his lap.  Really, it was just that she was too surprised to pull away as he leant back against the wall behind them.

 

“I’ve never had many close friends, you know?” Ginny snorted and she could hear the smirk in his voice when he replied.  “Yeah, yeah.  A lot of other children weren’t “appropriate” play-mates for the Malfoy heir and except for when my parents had parties and their friends brought their children I was alone.”

 

Ginny couldn’t image it.  Even though six older brothers (seven if you counted Dad, and Mum usually did) were overwhelming and she’d often wished for some peace and quiet, she couldn’t image growing up _alone_. 

 

“Just me and the house-elves, mostly.  And whatever pet I had at the moment.”  The smirk-sound reappeared there, leaving Ginny to believe there were entertaining stories about his (undoubtedly exotic) pets.  She’d have to ask- after he _got to the point._  

 

“But I did have one friend.  I…well, found him a bit before I’d turned 11.  He was quite a bit older than me and already Hogwarts-age…but he told the most _amazing_ stories.  About magic, about Hogwarts and Slytherin, about absolutely everything.  He seemed so much older and wiser than me, but he was just happy to have someone to talk to,” he snorted in, Ginny thought, self-disgust.  “Or so I thought, at the time.

 

Did you know I almost died the summer between my first and second years?”  Ginny shook her head, she’d never heard anything like that.

 

“What happened?”  She asked, interested in spite of herself.

 

  
”No one knew,” he responded.  Malfoys' –no, this was Draco, Ginny though- voice had dropped almost to a whisper.  She doubted she’d be able to hear him if she weren’t practically in his lap.  “I was just so _tired_ , for weeks I had no energy and at first no one really noticed.  But then I stopped waking up.”

 

Ginny suddenly worried she knew where this story was going.  No, it couldn’t be.

 

“My parents were spent a lot of time sitting by my bed in shifts.  Sometimes, according to them, I’d talk to them.  But when _I_ woke, I never remembered the conversations.”  Draco stopped, obviously upset.  Ginny pulled back again, but just enough that she could see his face.  He wouldn’t look her in the eyes but Ginny –still wrapped in Draco’s arms- put her hands on his upper arms and squeezed.  His eyes flickered up to her face and whatever she saw there gave him the strength to go on. 

 

“I don’t know what finally tipped my father off but…he waited till the next time I was awake and tore my room apart until he found… my friend and took him away.”  Malfoy attempted a smirk but it was a poor shadow of his normal one and quivered, just a bit, at the corners.  “I got well fairly quickly after that.”

 

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard before he looked up, meeting Ginny’s eyes.  “My friend,” he started.  “My best friend, for almost two years, was Tom Riddle.”

 

***

 

“My best friend, for almost two years, was Tom Riddle.”

 

Ginny had known it was coming by the end but she hadn’t really believed it.  She pulled back from him and he let her go.  She scrambled backwards, in shock more than anything else, until she ran up against the opposite wall.  Her eyes slid closed as she tried to process what she’d learned.  _Draco Malfoy_ understood.  She almost didn’t believe it but… there was no reason for him to lie.  No way he should even have known to tell _this_ lie if he had wanted to lie.  And, again, why would he want to?

 

She could feel the tension in him, even from across the passage, even with her eyes still closed, waiting for some kind of response.  She finally settled on, “How did you know?” 

 

He hesitated before answering and Ginny slitted her eyes open to watch him, “When I found you down here you were…on the floor, with your hands over you ears, like you were trying to block something out.”  Ginny grimaced at the image he was painting, but nodded and he continued.

 

“Once I managed to get you out of the corner,” he nodded a bit further down the corridor, where it turned off to the left, “I, well, we sat here and I tried to… calm you down.” 

 

Ginny opened her mouth to tell him that that really hadn’t explained anything but he cut her off with something closer to his usual glare –she was surprised to find herself a bit glad to see it- “You were mumbling, occasionally.  Most of it made no sense but I did catch ‘Tom’ once or twice… and then I mentioned Dobby; and I do know why he’s been here and not at the Manor for the past couple years.”

 

“Oh,” was really all she could say.

 

As they sat, staring at each other across only a few feet of hall, Ginny suddenly realized she was cold and that she wanted to be back in Draco’s arms.  At least she was warm there, but she couldn’t _ask_ for that.

 

Actually, she was cold and _wet_.

 

“Ew.”  Ginny looked down are realized she was sitting in a puddle of…. cold hot chocolate.  She must have tipped Draco’s mug over in her mad scramble across the floor.

 

Across the hall Draco climbed to his feet. Ginny looked up at him and he smiled.  Not a smirk or a sneer and, yes, it was small and rather unsure, but a real smile.  Ginny smiled back and watched it grow as Draco extended a hand down to her.

 

“Come on.  Let’s go get you cleaned up, since I don’t have my wand and I don’t think you do either.”

 

Ginny grabbed his hand and let him pull her up.  And when he pulled a bit too hard and had to steady her against him, she didn’t pull away.  And when his arm slid around her shoulders to keep her steady she stepped in closer and slid her hand around his waist as well. 

 

***

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Slytherin, my room.  If that’s ok?”  It was nice, Ginny realized again, to see Draco acting human sometimes.  “I thought you’d want something clean and dry.”

 

“Yeah, that’d be grea- Wait, you have your own room?”

 

Draco returned Ginny’s incredulous look with one of his own, “Of course.  Perk of being a prefect and all.” 

 

Ginny started to respond but Draco gestured her quiet, they’d reached… a blank wall.  Ginny raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“Welcome to the Serpents Den,” Draco whispered.  “You’re entirely welcome of course but, as a house, we are a bit… jumpy and if we wake people up and they see a Gryffindor…Well, they’re likely to hex first, go back to bed, and ask questions _much_ later.  I’d like to avoid that.”  Ginny nodded in agreement, she’d like to avoid it as well.

 

“And Merlin forbid we wake Snape at this hour.”  Draco mumbled that bit but Ginny –seeing as she was still quite close- caught it anyway, and shuddered.

 

Draco smirked down at her.  “Abracadabra.”

 

‘Abracadabra’? Ginny mouthed, incredulously, as the wall melted away into a deep stone doorway.  Draco just shrugged and escorted her across the common room –shades of green, leather, and snake motifs- and down a set of stairs.

 

“Here we are.”  Draco said, closing the door behind them.  “The bathroom’s through there,” he gestured towards a door on the right, next to a large armoire.  “You can dump your wet robe in the basket; I’ll lend you one of mine.”

 

“Thanks, Draco,” Ginny answered, ducking into the bathroom to hide her smirk as Draco froze in response to her use of his first name. 

 

The bathroom was…well, not as impressive as _the_ Prefects Bath (Hermione had snuck her in once) but more than just a toilet. 

 

“Mind if I have a quick shower, Draco?” she called.  “I’m bloody freezing.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Turning on the water to let it warm a bit, Ginny stripped out of her robe and night-shirt.  Checking that the water was warm –it was- she ducked in and sighed in absolute pleasure.  She’d never put slippers on and a robe and nightshirt _really_ weren’t enough to be sitting around Scottish dungeons in, even if it wasn’t deepest winter. 

 

***

 

“Dobby?”  Draco called quietly after Ginny disappeared into the bathroom.

 

A small pop heralded the house-elfs’ arrival and, though he bounced in place from sheer excitement at being useful, he’d learned that Slytherin appreciated its silence, _especially_ late at night. 

 

“Yes Master Draco, sir?  Can Dobby help you?”  The elf squeaked at about half his usual volume.

 

“Could you whip up two more of your hot chocolates Dobby?  I’m afraid my earlier cup got spilled before I could drink it.”

 

The elfs ears drooped, “Oh, poor Master Draco, Dobby is knowing how much you is loving Dobby’s hot chocolate, of course Dobby will fetch you more!”  Dobby stopped bouncing suddenly, as something occurred to him.  “ _Two_ cups, Master Draco? _Two_? You know Mistress Narcissa is saying that you shouldn’t have _too_ much or it will keep you awake.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes.  _Once,_ when he was _five_ …!

 

“Yes, Dobby, I know.  The second is for Miss Weasley.”  Dobby turned completely around in a circle; obviously searching for this ‘Miss Weasley’.

 

“She’s in the shower, Dobby,” Draco sighed.  “She accidentally knocked over the other mug and got chocolate all over herself, so I thought she might like to have some,” he explained.

 

“Oh, of course Master Draco.  You is sooo nice, helping the mean girl who spilled Masters chocolate….”  Dobby was back to bouncing in place, though he was also muttering beneath his breath by the time he popped back out.

 

Draco sighed, hung his robe back on the door where it belonged, kicked his slippers –he wasn’t silly enough to run around this bloody freezing castle at night without them- and flopped back on his bed to wait for his hot chocolate. 

 

***

 

Ginny, wrapped thoroughly in a towel, stuck her head out the bathroom door.

 

“Mal –Draco?  My nightshirt’s all chocolate-y too, do you have something I can borrow?”  She flushed as she asked. 

 

Draco had been sprawled across the bed, almost looking asleep, but he’d pushed himself up onto his elbows when she called his name.  He still looked a bit rumpled in his own pajama pants and what was obviously a school shirt and bare feet. 

 

“Sure,” he answered, getting up to dig through a drawer in the armoire.  He came back with a pair of black, silk bottoms and a light blue t-shirt.  “The trousers will probably be too big but these ones’ve got a string,” he said as he handed them to her.

 

“Thanks,” Ginny answered and ducked back into the bathroom to change.

 

When she came back out an amazing smell wafted through the room.  Draco already had one mug up to his nose –just savouring the smell. 

 

“What’s that?”

 

“It’s Dobby’s hot chocolate.”  If Draco looked completely blissed out on just the smell… “There’s a mug for you too,” he gestured towards a second mug sitting on the nightstand.  “I thought you could probably use some too, after the night you’ve had.”

 

“Great, thanks.  It smells _delicious_.”

 

“It is, it really is.”  Draco murmured as he took his first sip. 

 

Seeing Ginny –still barefoot- standing with the mug cradled in both hands, just absorbing the smell as he had, Draco pulled back the duvet, climbed under it and patted the bed next to him.

 

“Here, come sit.  At least you’ll be warm.”

 

For a moment Ginny looked like she might refuse, but then she remembered how nice Draco had been all night and decided she had no real reason to say ‘no’.  They sat in silence for a few minutes, savouring their hot chocolate and each other’s company.

 

***

 

A giant yawn surprised Ginny so suddenly that she would have dropped her (empty anyway) mug had Draco not caught it.

 

“You’re exhausted.”  He accused.

 

Ginny shrugged, she saw no point in denying it but she was so comfortable here, and –another yawn- it was such a _long_ walk back to Gryffindor Tower…

 

“You can stay here.  If you want,” Draco offered shyly.  Before tonight Ginny would have laughed herself sick at the thought of a shy-Malfoy but now...

 

“And what about tomorrow?”  She roused herself enough to query.

 

“What about it?  It’s the weekend –thank Merlin- so we don’t have classes to get up for.  At some point we’ll go to breakfast or possibly lunch.  Dinner later; scatter homework and friends about…”

 

“I mean, will we go back to being ‘Weaslette’ and ‘Malfoy’? or what?”  She was a bit more awake now, propped up on Draco’s massive pile of pillows; she sent him a look that demanded a _real_ answer.

 

Draco sighed, “I’d like for us to be friends, Ginny.  This thing it’s, well, it’s nothing anyone else has ever understood and we got along alright tonight, right?  Besides, it’s not like I’ll be following ‘Daddy’ into the ‘family business’.”

 

“Oh,” a grin split Ginny’s face and she threw herself at Draco in a giant hug.  “That’s great!  So,” she sat back, “you’re not going to be a Death Eater then?”  She was already pretty sure he wasn’t but…well, she wanted to hear it.

 

“Nope.”  Draco smiled back at her, still that little half-smile and Ginny made it her new goal to get a full-blown grin out of him soon.  “But,” his tone became serious, “it’s dangerous.  I’ll still have to play the part for a while…But right now,” he smirked, “I’d like to get some sleep.”

 

Ginny smiled back at him.  “Alright.  Sleep.”  Another giant yawn interrupted her and, rather than talk more, she snuggled down under the covers beside Draco.

 

Somehow, as she drifted off to dreamland, she thought that tonight the dreams wouldn’t be back. 


End file.
